The Mute Girl and The Masacre
by IEatLeviathanForBreakfast
Summary: When a teenage girl is found at the scene of a multi-murder it makes the case a lot more complicated. How are the team supposed to solve a case while babysitting a moody teenage witness who's definitely keeping something from them. Throw in the fact that she can't speak and they don't even know who she is, and this just might turn out to be their most frustrating case yet.


Chapter 1 – The Girl in the Forest

T.B.'s P.O.V.

Finishing up my report with a heavy sigh I prepared to wrap up another early evening at the lab. Things had been very quiet around the medico-legal lab lately; it almost seemed that they population of Washington D.C. had gotten tired of killing each other. However, that was highly unlikely. Instead of sharing in the cheer my interns were indulging in I had resigned myself to dread. I had come across spells of non-violence like this before in my career, and each time their end was punctuated with crimes the likes of which managed to turn even my stomach.

The sense of foreboding refusing to lift, I gathered my things to head home, despite my 'gut feeling' that something was about to happen. I was stopped short by my phone's shrill demand for my attention. It was Booth. I knew as I answered the call that our brief respite was over.

"I'm on my way, where do you need me?" I asked urgently, not giving time to waste on unnecessary greetings.

"West Potomac Park, we need you as soon as possible," he replied tensely, continuing after a short pause, "Just a warning Bones – it's bad, real bad."

After a hasty goodbye I hung up and hurried to my car. Although the drive to West Potomac was usually short, that day it felt like I was travelling for hours. The seemingly endless traffic didn't help matters much. I supposed the extra vehicles were after being directed away from the park and onto the less-used streets. This rationalisation failed to quell my frustration, eager as I was to get to the scene and get to work.

After what seemed like an unnaturally long time I eventually arrived at the entrance to the park and had to fight with the officers at the gates to let me through. Cam, already on site, approached me, getting straight to business.

"Three sets of remains have been found so far, there's not much for me to do with them, all their soft tissue has been shredded," she began the briefing, pointing out which direction each of the remains were found in, "Chances are they're minors, the team found a burnt out fire pit, empty bottles and the like. They're thinking it was some sort of illegal bonfire gone wrong. So far, no evidence of the perpetrator."

"Surely there must be something," I replied, "It rained last night and froze this morning, their tracks would have been preserved." Cam shook her head.

"I was as surprised as you are," she admitted, "But there's nothing, I checked myself. No boot prints around the crime scenes, no marks to tell if they were dragged, no tracks of any kind. Our only hope is that some of the hair and blood we're sampling belongs to our killer."

As I got to work I saw that Cam hadn't been exaggerating, there was no indication as to how the three victims ended up where they were found. I turned to Booth where he was standing out of the way to take notes of our observations.

"Whoever did this covered their tracks expertly," I affirmed.

"Expertly as in used to clearing park paths, or a lot of practice destroying evidence?" he asked, I shrugged.

"I can't tell, if you want someone to guess perhaps you should ask Sweets," I suggested.

This case was brutal, gruesome to the point I doubted there would be much television coverage allowed. Parts of two of the victims lay strewn around the small break in foliage where we stood. Their soft tissue bore a closer resemblance to mush than to flesh and organs. Many of the bones were broken and damaged; one of the skulls had been almost completely shattered. Blood gathered in pools on the forest floor, stained the light-barked trees in streaks – marks of fingernails were left along with one of them.

"We're presuming one of the victims was carried here, or tried to escape when that happened," Booth informed me. Nodding, I turned my attention to the remains.

"This pelvis belongs to a female, between the ages of eighteen and twenty-three, never given birth. If this is her femur, I'd say she was five feet ten inches tall," I informed my colleagues, "The other pelvis is definitely male, also late teens. I won't be able to determine race until the skull is reassembled. Approximately five feet nine inches tall, he was a runner."

"Is that all we've got for now?" Booth asked as I stood, reaching out to a tech for an evidence bag.

"Until I get the bones cleaned, yes. Is the other victim in better condition?"

"The skull is intact, other than that it's pretty much on par with this," Cam supplied, "You go on ahead and examine the other crime scene, I've got everything under control here."

I didn't actually get to examine the second crime scene for quite some time after that. As we ducked under the yellow tape another agent dashed to Booth's side, panting. Taking a second to catch his breath the man signalled for us to come with him.

"Agent Charles," Booth greeted the man, "what seems to be the problem?"

"We've found three more bodies Agent Booth, all as bad as the first three. Winston thinks he's come across tracks to another a fourth crime scene. We also found this," Agent Charles shoved an evidence bag containing a dirtied dry-erase board into Booth's hands, "near the third site."

Curious as to why he thought it was so important I read the board over Booth's shoulder. There were only a few short sentences written in a neat hand with a bright teal marker:_ 'Come on, Anna, tell me where we're going'_,_ 'Anna, this is a bad idea, we need to go'_, and_ 'TAKE ME HOME NOW!' _The last line was covered in mud, half rubbed out and indecipherable.

"Looks like 'the teens-attacked-at-bonfire' theory is looking pretty accurate," Agent Charles commented, "And it looks like this one knew they shouldn't have been there last night."

"Yeah, but who brings a dry-erase board to an illegal drunken bonfire in the middle of the park?" Booth wondered aloud, not expecting anyone to answer. He started off in the direction Charles had come from, motioning for me to go with him. "These sites are deeper in the forest; we can come back to that one on the way out when the tech team's done."

The idea seemed reasonable, so I quickly went told Wendell what I wanted him to do at the scene and followed Booth. The second crime scene I analysed that day was no less disturbing than the first. The only consolation was that this set of remains was in better condition than those in the first site. Setting aside my pity for the mere children who suffered this fate I got back to work.

Picking up the skull I reported, "Male, mid to late teens, Caucasian. From the wear on the teeth it appears he had a lip piercing."

I didn't get any further in my investigation of the remains. As I began to appraise an ulna a shout of, "We've got another one!" rang out from just beyond the fringe of trees. It was quickly followed by a distressed yell and a flurry of scuffling. The FBI team around me ran to the source of the trouble as one. I joined them as soon as I had the ulna in an evidence bag. As I approached the muffled struggle I heard agents and techs yelling, and the sound of flesh impacting flesh.

Breaking through the last of the brush I was not expecting to be met with the scene unfolding before me. A girl looking no more than sixteen was backed against a tree trunk like a caged animal, poised to bolt at the first sign of an opportunity for freedom, ready to strike down anyone who dared approach. Two men and a woman already lay a few feet away from her, presumably unconscious.

Upon looking closer I realised she wasn't just scared, she was downright terrified. Her entire form was almost vibrating, not just from the cold, but in agitation despite the exhaustion clear in the bags under her eyes. Her eyes themselves contained the frenzied look of someone fighting for their life. From the state of her appearance I thought it very likely she _had_ been running for her life before we came across her. Her hair was violently violet, barely down to her chin, dirty and tangled with twigs and leaves. Her clothes, though punk-ish in style were practical and hard wearing, torn, barely hanging onto her small frame, and stained with mud and blood.

"Who are you?" Booth asked the girl, staying at a safe distance, hands raised in a surrendering gesture, "What's your name?"

The girl simply shook her head and moved farther back, as though she were trying to will the tree to swallow her up.

"What's your name?" Booth asked again, more forcefully this time. Again he received no answer, just a wary, furious glare.

The girl continued to make not a sound as Agent Charles took a step closer to her, drawing her lips into a silent snarl. As she did so I could see taut muscles tense through the rips in her clothing. Despite her fear she was determined and sure footed. The agents around me appeared to consider her take down of their co-workers a result of an adrenaline rush. I began to doubt that was the case, because the girl looked strong and capable beneath the dirt and panic.

"Cooperate or we'll have to arrest you." Booth warned her. Still no response, but she did take her eyes of Charles long enough to send Booth a defiant glance and flip him off.

Insulting the widely respected Agent-In-Charge like that wasn't the smartest move on her part. Two of Booth's colleagues advanced on the girl the instant she did so reaching for handcuffs, confident they would be able to overpower the petite youth. They were in for a rude awakening.

I had been more right than I'd guessed when I concluded the young woman was strong, because when they tried to manhandle her, her reaction was akin to that big green comic book character Booth likes so much. She elbowed the first to reach for her in the stomach, and then somehow managed to flip him over herself. He landed onto the cold dirty ground a few feet away with a painful sounding thump. She took care of the second just as efficiently. She sent a hard jab to his abdomen to get him down to her level, striking him in the head rapidly until he fell to the floor, too surprised to retaliate properly.

This happened almost too quickly for most to process, and in the space of thirty seconds she was once again backed against the trunk sizing the rest of us up. Booth was the first to recover, speaking more harshly to her now.

"Assaulting federal agents isn't going to help your case kid," he snapped, "Now, this is what's going to happen. I'm going to take you back to the bureau, and you're going to tell us who you are and what you were doing here. Alright?"

This time she completely ignored him. Instead, her eyes looked to the ground, frustrated, and began urgently searching for something there. That's when I realised why the dry-erase board was here. Striding forward, I took the evidence bag Booth still held and approached the girl.

"Bones, what're you doing?" Booth demanded, reaching out to try and stop me. I shrugged out of his grip and kept going.

"This is yours, isn't it?" I asked, stopping a few feet in front of her and holding out the bag. Peering at the bag she recognised what I was holding and her eyes widened. They flickered up to my face, then to the board, and back to meet mine. Holding my gaze she nodded slowly, still clinging to the tree like it was her life-source.

"Can you talk?" I asked, already knowing her answer. She ducked her head in an embarrassed gesture and carefully shook it side to side. I didn't know why she felt embarrassed when it was my colleagues and I who should be.

"Come with me, and I'll have everything taken care of, okay?" I offered, extending a hand to the youth as a gesture of goodwill. Surprisingly, she surrendered and took it. I led her away from the tree and toward the newly arrived EMTs. When she saw who I was taking her to the girl stopped and pulled her hand back from mine.

"You have to let them check if you're injured," I told her gently, placing a hand behind her shoulders to guide her forward. She regarded the man and woman warily but moved toward them nonetheless. However, she did refuse to be left in their care, so I walked with her back to the outskirts of the forestry where the ambulance was parked and waiting. She allowed me to manoeuvre her to sit on a stretcher, but the EMTs were reluctant to begin treating her with assurance she wouldn't react to being touched like she had earlier.

"I have to go back to work," I told her, "but I'll get you something to write with, and I'll be back when I'm done. In the meantime, will you let the paramedics treat you?" She nodded as I was handed a legal pad and a cheap pen. Passing them on to her I made asked again if she was comfortable with the paramedics and reluctantly left to do my job.

"What's going to happen to her?" I wondered as I fell into step with Booth.

"Well she was found at the scene of the murders, covered in evidence, so she'll probably go back to the Jeffersonian first, and then on to questioning," Booth answered with a sigh, "Whatever happens with her, this case just got even more complicated. And we've had to call in more people so we can expand the search to cover the entire park. I just got off the phone with Hacker, this is being classified as a multi-murder and attempted murder, but everyone's afraid it'll turn out to be a full on massacre."

"No-one's going to try and cuff her again?" I asked, "Because I don't think she would react well to that."

"Not right now, if she continues to cooperate," Booth said, "Most likely the assault will be excused and put down to shock and the fact that she's probably suffered severe mental trauma."

Heaving out a sigh of relief I prepared myself for a very long night and trudged back into the forest.


End file.
